Damaged Goods
by monkeygirl77
Summary: Michael is damaged goods. The cage did him no favors. Luckily for him, Gabriel finds him.


Michael was on his knees, his wings were shredded and bleeding, they seemed a mess, and to top it off there was missing feathers. The pale blue feathers were dirty, which in itself was very unlike Michael as he had of pride in his wings and normally kept them perfectly, he coughed up blood. Michael was in pain and looked close to blacking.

And as if things couldn't get any worse for the extremely weakened and injured Archangel, it was raining, and in the middle of the winter so therefore it was also freezing. Shivers wracked his body like mini earthquakes and he coughed harshly into his hand as he attempted to keep warm by curling tighter into himself.

Perhaps this was his penance for being such a horrid brother, horrid son.

…

Gabriel kicked at the litter in the ally angrily, maintaining the 'out of sight out of mind' process when it came to the throbbing wound in his chest, it wasn't working the wonders he had originally hoped it would have.

Griping to himself under his breath he almost missed the curled up figure on the ground leaning against the side of a dumpster looking much like one of the homeless people that frequented this particular spot often. And he would have kept going if it hadn't been for the crack of lightning (conveniently placed) that illuminated the pale blue feathers of the only angel he knew to possess those shades.

The shock stopped him clean in his grumpy tracks.

"Michael?"

There was a slight catch in the one curled against the brick wall, glowing blue eyes peeking out from crossed arms to gaze at the one calling his name, the shock that flooded Gabriel's systems did just as much to Michaels.

He can't believe that this is Michael, the great and powerful Archangel, fearsome Michael. Looking so poor and broken curled up in a fetal like position on the cold hard ground. A part of Gabriel wants to leave him, laugh at his misery, and then leave him. He would deserve it, after everything he had put their family through, bastard. But on the same note, he cant, and he knows it. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he left his brother here to suffer like this (despite the fact that he's sure that Michael wouldn't think twice about doing it to him) and he'd eventually come back to get him.

Two birds, one stone.

"Michael? What are you doing here?"

Michael stared up at what he assumed was his baby brother, but that was impossible his weary mind was telling him as he had felt it when Lucifer had run him through. He'd felt it, just as Raphael had, the after shock of an Archangel being murdered. There was no possible way that this could be his Gabriel. Besides, surely he was still in the cage, surrounded by the humans and Lucifer's screams (and his, his were definitely present too). Why wouldn't he be, none of his so called siblings had come for him, nor his father whom he followed without question his entire life (however, screw you dad! Lucifer was right! You are an ass!) so the cage was clearly running out of material if it was going to such extreme lengths to torture him.

Making a pretend version of his baby brother, low.

"Hey," Gabriel knelt in front of his disillusioned brother and tapped his cheek lightly with a hand, "You okay bro?"

Michael stared at him for a moment before lifting a hand to caress the back of Gabriel's warm one. It felt so real to him. Too real.

"You...you cannot be real..."

"What?"

"You're dead...I felt it...Felt the...the snap...You're not really here..."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, of all the responses he'd expected (wanted?) this was not on that freakishly long list. Michael was far from okay if he didn't recognize the, extremely weakened, evident flicker of grace beating through his mere touch.

"Yeah, well, stories of my death have been greatly-"

Michael's passing out cut him off, great. Just great.

"Exagerated...Great..Thanks bro...Was I boring you that bad? Up and pass out on me. Rude."

Sighing strainedly Gabriel sat back on his heels, resting his elbows on his bent knees, thinking hard for a few moments. He couldn't very well leave his brother out here on his own, not in this state. Leaving someone, even an archangel such as Michael (this was so wrong!), on their own in this weather and weakened state was practically asking for Death to come on up and claim them.

Nope.

He was too good for that.

Michael was a bastard but he was Gabriel's bastard of a brother.

Hefting another large sigh, Gabriel reaches out for his brother. Michael's not as light as people would think him to be that was for sure. It's difficult but not impossible to lift him up from his unconscious fetal position on the ground and heft him up over his shoulders in a sloppy form of the fireman's carry.

Grimacing in pain as he stands, he stumbles only slightly before catching himself. Gabriel grits his teeth as his chest burns and stretches in a manner it absolutely loathes at the moment.

"Come on bro, you can chill at my place, sleeping in dank places such as this is not good on the back."

Gabriel stumbles the rest of the way down the alley, down two streets, and up a set of stairs to get to his apartment. He's just about out of breath by the time he can finally flip Michael from his shoulders to his couch and blood is dripping down his chest in small droplets. Michael falls forward gracelessly, still miraculously unconscious judging by the number of times Gabriel had accidentally smashed his hard head into something (most of them had been accidents). Grimacing again as he straightened out, Gabriel had to shake his head to clear the spots dancing in his vision, passing out himself on his big brother would do them absolutely no favors.

He'd have the change shirts before doing anything else first.

…

"You know, considering this is my house, you should be the one doing this to my wings dofus."

It had been a while since he'd brought his brother to his place (or in other words more like about a day, if that, probably only a few hours honestly) and Michael had yet to wake up. Gabriel had changed shirts, attempted to staunch the flow of blood from the ever so slowly closing wound on his chest, and returned to his brothers side.

He felt for Michael, because he was a nice guy, and Gabriel wanted to help him as best as he could. His grace was about as useful as a pebble at the moment so that was out of the question, but, he decided, he could help him groom his wings.

Gabriel was a nice guy.

Finishing two of the large wings he looked around and groaned, two down and four to go. This was going to take forever and a day to get done. Not that he didn't want to help his brother but this was a moot point. He could feel his own inner strength starting to wither out and it would do neither of them any good if he passed out onto his brother.

"You know what, you're not here to stop me from doing this, so I'm going to speed up this process!"

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes to concentrate, and pulled his wild grace in as much as he could concentrating it into one little ball so it was easier to maintain. Opening his eyes, Gabriel glowed a faint golden color as he set a hand right between his brothers shoulder blades and pushed all the grace he could manage out.

Gritting his teeth as the blood started pouring and his wound started throbbing, Gabriel pushed with all his might. His grace spread through his brothers body, his wings, and the feathers started building up their glow once more. Cuts and scrapes closed up, blood drying, and Gabriel felt lightheaded.

"Oh know..."

It was in this single moment that he had decided that he had indeed done something stupid.

And then he promptly passed out.

…

It wasn't long after Gabriel passed out, that his eyes flew open. He sucked in a deep breath and looked around frantically as he tried to place his surroundings. He knew that sword in the corner and that horn on the cluttered side table.

Sighing again, Michael sat up as best he could. His grace was still very much weakened, but something had kickstarted it. There was not much in this world that could do that to an archangel's grace, nothing above another Archangel or Father himself could do such things.

He flexed his wings tenderly, grimacing at the stiffness but surprised at the lack of agonizing pain that had followed the last time he had attempted to do this. Michael turned to look at the only other living thing in the room and his breath caught in his throat.

Gabriel.

That was impossible. Gabriel was dead. He'd felt it, saw it. The snap of their bond, he felt it as it dissolved. Gabriel had been slain and they all knew it.

And yet here he was.

His mind takes a stern twist as he now knows who it was that aided his own Grace. Gabriel should be old enough to know when to preserve his own strength and when not to, but here he was, and there he was.

Michael sighed, concealing a groan, and leaned forward to grasp at the back of his brothers shirt. Sitting back he was able to pull his brother up, sitting back as he tumbled down onto the bed with him, falling over into his lap. He has no strength himself to be doing this, simply pulling him up here with him was a difficult task.

But he'd manage, he always would.

Reaching over, he attempted to turn his brother around, and he felt it. The smooth, warm, slickness only blood could have upon contact. Michael pulled his hand away in shock, staring at the blood that had collected on his fingers in the mere moment he had touched whatever it was that was leaking so horrendously.

"What on Earth.."

Michael flipped his brother, pulling him over by the shoulder, and peered over at the seeping wound on his chest. Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.

"Do you mean to tell me that you used your only strength to aid me in mine? You are still bleeding right through your shirt! Ooohhh Little Brother you and me are going to have words. You are old enough to know better, honestly, you are no fledgling but if you insist on acting like one-"

He ranted on for over half an hour scolding his brothers unconscious body. Michael was able to get the bleeding to slow to a stop, without using a bit of grace but the old fashioned pressure to the wound. He dressed it with some left over gauze on the table next to him.

"If you break this binding Gabriel-."

Michael left it hanging open, the threat hanging in the air. It was as good as being said. With a touch to the base of Gabriel's neck he forced the golden wings his brother was known for spring forth. Heaven's Viceroy couldn't help but smile at the sight, he could remember the day that his little Gabriel had grown them.

The screams that had been ripped from him during that time had rocked Heaven, a few hours of cuddles and whispered words of comfort among the three of them afterwards for their baby brother and things had been just fine.

He hadn't had the privilege of grooming these wings in as long as he can remember. Just being able to sit here, if one ignored the other issues in the moment, and getting to run his fingers through the golden feathers was the best feeling he has gotten in a long time.

But as it was, even he needed more rest, as he felt his body slowly succumbing to the need for rest. Michael sighed deeply, unfurling his own mighty wings and wrapping them around his slumbering baby brother comfortably, his eyes fluttered shut easily knowing that his brother he had thought to be dead was safely wrapped within his wings.

…

When Gabriel did wake up, eventually, it was to a wall of pale blue feathers. He made a face as the feathers brushed against his nose and cheek, reaching up weakly to swat at the wall. And once it moved he hoped beyond hope that it would be put back and they could start this entire waking experience over again.

The feathers moved away slowly, and he squinted at the sudden surprisingly bright dim light, but once his eyes adjusted he was met with a very good look in the intense blazing blue eyes of his older brother. If someone could merely scold you with only their eyes, Michael would be the one who could do it.

Michael was not a happy camper and Gabriel was just able to keep himself from groaning.

He startles when he feels the fingers run through the feathers of his beloved golden wings.

"What in our Father's name were you thinking?"

He does groan this time, loudly, "A thank you does the job just fine!"

There's a warning tug on his feathers, "The attitude should be wisely dropped Gabriel."

He saves the guy and this is what he gets. A freaking scolding! The gentle grooming is taken back up again much to his utter relief.

"Using your grace to aid me when you yourself needs it more."

"Well your most welcome then bro, most welcome."

Michael heaves a sigh, clearly not thrilled with his current attitude but he couldn't care less, the fingers under his feathers change motions and Gabriel squawks. His back arches as best as he can as he attempts to wiggle his wing away from his brothers grasp.

"Mike. Stop."

His brother instead stretches his wing out, moving his hand from the top of his wing to the sensitive skin on the underside. It's involuntary, but Gabriel shrieks in surprise, bursting out into a fit of laughter. He doesn't even have to look up to know that Michael is grinning that ridiculous smile.

"Again with the attitude Gabriel, I had thought we had gotten rid of that once and for all, all those eons ago."

"Stop! Mike! You have to stop!"

"Oh, I have to stop? I do not believe that you're in any place to order me around."

Gabriel was struggling here, honestly, Michael's grip on his wing was solid as ever and he knew he wouldn't stop until he was well and ready to and-Oh Dad! Not the joint! Not the joint! He'd hoped that his older brother had forgotten about this!

"Please! Please!"

"Will you lose the attitude?"

"It's gone! It's gone!"

"Are you sure?"

Gabriel pushed against his older brother weakly, pulling at his wing as hard as he could, "Positive! I swear! Please! Please Micha!"

His brother let go of his wing a second later, those dreadful fingers no longer doing their evil work, and Gabriel curled his wing tightly behind his back just in case of future attacks. Michael is relaxing back in the pillows though watching him silently as he hides his wings away once more.

"Be mindful of your lip in the future, little brother."

They're both still extremely weak and in dire need of more rest, but Michael naturally refuses to sleep until Gabriel does first. He can see the fatigue in his baby brother's eyes. He's gentle as he pulls his brother up again, settling him in his side comfortably. Gabriel massages a hand over his forehead then he reached down to rub at his chest. A hand caught his though and pulled it away.

He looks up at Michael in confusion.

"No baby brother, leave it be."

Michael pulls the hand away, keeping it in grasp, and pressed a kiss to his palm. Gabriel watched him silently, if not a bit cautiously, but his brother merely pulled his hand down to his own chest.

"You need rest little brother."

"I'm fine bro, thanks for the worrying though."

The older brother raised an eyebrow, "Gabriel, it has indeed been a while since we last met, but I still know you better than you think I do."

"Seriously, I'm good."

His brother hummed under his breath, pulling him closer until he was able to wind an arm around his shoulders and brush his thumb over his other wrist.

"Rest, little one, you have helped me, now allow me to return the favor."

Michael leaned his head back into the pillow behind him, closing his own eyes as if to show that he himself was not at full strength either so that Gabriel would not feel put out as being the only weakened one, and a sneaky hand reached up to rub at his belly.

It had been a quirk they had discovered when Gabriel had been a small fledgling who absolutely detested sleeping (little known fact—fledgling angels do in fact have to sleep) that if you rubbed his belly it was as good as any sleeping drug.

As it had back then, it still worked like absolute magic, Michael peered down at his brother when he felt him sigh deeply and completely fall limp into his hold.

"There you go, rest baby brother."


End file.
